


Late Night Vigils

by Meextraordinaire



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meextraordinaire/pseuds/Meextraordinaire
Summary: Basira calls them “paranoia-fuelled patrols”. It wasn’t correct, even though it was a fair shot to call Daisy out on her restless walks through the Archives, especially since the number of nights without her stalking through the long and silents halls in the middle of the night started to decrease. But these seemingly aimless trips had more of a purpose than the others knew.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 116





	Late Night Vigils

**Author's Note:**

> One of my treasured podcasts has gotten to a very intense point and I needed to take a break from it. So why not think about other heartbreaking podcasts? Seriously though, Jon and Daisy's friendship means a lot to me. Mutually supporting buddies? Yes please.

Basira calls them “paranoia-fuelled patrols”. It wasn’t correct, even though it was a fair shot to call Daisy out on her restless walks through the Archives, especially since the number of nights without her stalking through the long and silents halls in the middle of the night started to decrease. But these seemingly aimless trips had more of a purpose than the others knew.

It was almost 4 AM. The Institute was closed, the front and back doors heavily locked and the alarms on the ground floor ready to sound off – she had checked them herself, as usual. She still didn’t consider herself paranoid though, because, as the saying went, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you. She was just slightly more careful than the others.

The other girls were both asleep now. She had left them like that, Melanie draped on the couch and Basira on the sleeping mat. They all shared the same room, littered with books, blankets and notes they never bothered to finish. Daisy had gotten a pretty good grip on their sleeping patterns. Melanie passed out in a matter of seconds and woke at sunrise but had no morning rituals to spend her time with. Basira usually stayed awake for hours, reading and researching and gently talking with Daisy about everything and nothing at all. As a result, her friend would often sleep well until midday, when the whole Institute was alive with unsuspecting workers. Daisy made sure to leave her be. Her untroubled face was a buoy to cling onto whenever she awoke from a particularly vivid nightmare. Just looking at her made her feel better.

As for the other Archive employees, well. Martin was still on his own, doing god-knows-what, but she couldn’t imagine he was sleeping very well. She hadn’t seen him a lot after she got out of the Buried, but the one time she got a close look at his face she noticed the dark, almost blueish bags under his eyes that mirrored her own.

And then there was Jon. Jon wouldn’t touch a normal sleeping pattern with a stick if someone was throwing money at him to do so. He slept at the strangest moments, usually because his body couldn’t function anymore after he had exhausted himself with various wakeful nights. He pretended that he was prioritising work over anything else, but she knew the need to stay awake just as well as he did. She knew what was waiting in their dreams when they didn’t keep their guard up and slipped into unconsciousness.

The sounds of her footsteps softly echoed through the hall. She was almost at Jon’s office. After checking on how he was doing and maybe having a short chat, she’d go on to the break room for a cup of tea, and with something to keep her hands warm she would make her way to the elevator, the restrooms and the abandoned research area, until her whole sweep of the Archives was done. This was her nightly ritual, wandering around the place that might as well be her home to quiet the fearful voices in her head. Checking if there was anything strange or out of place, like a- _Like a guard dog_ , her mind supplemented. The thought crossed her mind for less than a second, but she immediately pushed it away, to a compartment in the back of her head that contained blood and dirt and screams. No more dog-comparisons. That time was behind her.

She knocked on the door with the nameplate that said “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist” in golden block letters. No one answered, so she pushed the door open and whispered: “Jon?”

She had to suppress a smile when she saw her boss, sound asleep on his desk. His head was resting on his arms, his cheek pressed against a half-empty mug of cold coffee. From the doorstep it almost looked like he wasn’t breathing, as if his body had finally decided that it couldn’t sustain living this nightmare they had all found themselves in. But Daisy had seen Jon lying like this many times before – passed-out and a fucking mess.

He had probably found her like this a few times before as well, she supposed.

Jon didn’t stir at the sound of her voice. Whenever he let himself drift off, the man slept like a log. It looked like she had caught him on one of his peaceful nights, where a higher power had granted him rest without the visages of past victims blaming him for what he had done to them. His face was relaxed but even in his sleep Jon still looked way older than his age. 

She sighed. Seeing Jon like this only made her more tired, and her legs protested at the thought of continuing her vigil. Instead of leaving the doorstep, her eyes scanned the dark room. His old, torn-up sofa he occasionally used as a bed was in the corner, making her consider spending the night here despite how uncomfortable it looked. Her fingers twitched in hesitation. _Would it be weird if he wakes up and finds me like that?_

What did it even matter. He could complain about her breaking into his office while he was dead asleep in the morning, after both of them had had their coffee. Now she was going to give in to her tiredness and cuddle up with a stinky couch that smelled like burnt leather and spilled wine.

Darkness found her almost immediately, and she was gone.

* * *

When Daisy’s eyes fluttered open and she wasn’t faced with Basira’s gentle features, eyes still closed as the woman was far away in another realm, she was disoriented. But the memory of her getting comfortable in Jon’s office, _while he was still in it_ , rushed back to her. She was just about to stammer a groggy apology when she noticed the absence of her friend. Jon had left without waking her.

The second thing that returned to her were the visions of her lingering dream. Her breathing became unsteady and she realized that this _was a mistake, normally Basira is here to calm me down, I can’t think it’s too much why won’t it stop I know it’ll never stop_ -

She sat up straight, remembering the breathing exercises she had taught herself and Melanie, but a hazy red fog slowly started creeping out from the corners of her eyesight. _Don’t focus on the blood_ , she repeated to herself. _Focus on the quiet_. The quiet. It was quiet here. The sounds of distant traffic. The smell of cigarettes. The feeling of regrets and pain, lingering in the air even without the carrier, settled into this room because there were few places else to settle into.

The haze slowly dissipated, and her view of the room became clearer. That’s when she saw it. A tray was balancing on the edge of the sofa, on it an incredibly ugly mug with steaming hot coffee with milk and a bun like the ones they sold in the bakery down the street. Exactly what she got herself every morning. She stared at it, unsure if it was real. Her hand trembled as she reached out for it, but the stone mug was solid and warm.

Jon had brought her morning coffee and a snack.

She took a shaky breath and though she was still too shaken up to smile, her body became slightly less tensed and her mind was calmer.

It was one of the nicest mornings she had ever since the coffin.

Neither of them ever acknowledged that it had happened. But things had changed, a little. They talked more. Joked more. She got to know Jon beyond the eldritch horror servant and grumpy boss personas. Daisy’s vigils became less frequent. Instead she spends the restless nights with her new friend, making futile world-saving plans and watching some of her guilty pleasure shows.

It was good having another friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this thing I wrote up late in the evening! English isn't my native language, so I'm sorry if things are out of place or just completely wrong. I should probably go to sleep.  
> ♥


End file.
